


Escape

by Syble



Category: Battlestar Galactica (1978)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-06-03
Packaged: 2018-02-03 05:38:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1733081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syble/pseuds/Syble
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starbuck must escape!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Escape

Escape!

 

Starbuck’s breathing was ragged and his pulse pounded in his ears, momentarily blocking out all sounds. Desperately, he tried to calm his breathing as he strained to hear any sounds of pursuit. Beyond his own thudding heart, there was no sound. 

Cautiously, he peered out around the corner. The corridor appeared to be empty. He ducked back into his hiding spot and searched his mind for an escape route. Glancing back out into the corridor he snuck out of his temporary sanctuary and scurried toward the end of the corridor, where it intersected with another passage. 

Just two more levels and he’d be safe. Then he heard the sound of running feet approaching. Breaking into a run he dashed forward, and hurtled himself around the corner. 

NO! They were there, waiting for him! He’d been duped. Frantically, he backpedaled, hoping to make it to another hatchway before they could actually catch him. 

As he turned, he saw one of the others ready to block his escape. With a growl of rage, he surged forward into the blocking body sending them both crashing to the ground. The other was temporarily stunned from the fall and Starbuck hastily scramble up off the body, stumbling as he tried to stand and run at the same time. Without warning something tackled him from behind sending him back down to the deck. His breath was knock from him as he hit the hard floor. Momentarily stunned, he didn't fight back as he was hauled to his feet. But, when strong hands grasped his arms and shoulders he began to fight back. He struggled with his captors all the way down the corridor until they reach the door at the end. The one he'd fled from.

"Put him in the chair!" Came the cold harsh voice from the one he'd thought he'd escaped.

"No!" he protested, "Let me go!" Desperately, he tried to throw off the hands that held him firmly in the chair.

He watched in horror as the other approached, his sharpened instruments in his hand, ready to rend and cut. He quickly closed his eyes as the instruments came closer, he could hear the cutting noses they made as they began at his forehead. Snip, snip. He gritted his teeth, swearing loudly that he'd have his revenge upon them all.

"Oh, come on Starbuck! You're acting worse than Boxey! It's only a hair cut."


End file.
